


Always

by glittergrenade



Category: Dr. Dre (Musician), Eminem (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Fluff, M/M, bbys, comforty, race stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittergrenade/pseuds/glittergrenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eminem just wants Dr. Dre to be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

Eminem was lounging on the couch. Frankly, he was exhausted. Almost too exhausted to smoke weed — ha ha, like that was ever a thing for him. He was pretty high right now actually, and starting to doze off. It had been a long day, but a great one. It was impossible to be sure, but he felt in his soul that today's show had gone amazingly. He loved preforming, and the fans seemed so into him! Best of all, he was on tour with the man he loved most in the whole world: Dr. Dre.

The very doctor walked in right at that moment, as if cued by thought. He looked exhausted too, and plopped down right next to Em. Em laid his head on Dre's shoulder, then looked up, yawning.

"Yo nigga." Dre's rhythmic voice always made Em feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Whaddup dawg." It was what Em typically said in reply. Of course he couldn't say the n-word, and sure he sometimes wanted to; but unlike a lot of white trash, he refrained. He knew he was white, and he was grateful to be accepted by blacks, even though he wasn't one of them. That's why he actually loved being called nigga — even if he, well, _wasn't_ one, it was a sign that he was accepted. That he was loved.

That Dre loved him.

"Long day," Dre commented, running a hand through Em's bleached whiteboy hair. Em knew that Dre loved the straw-like feel of that hair.

"Yeah…" he sighed. " _Good_ though, right, Dre? It was a dope night."

"Damn fuckin' dope," Dre nodded in agreement, but he didn't seem to be into it. Not the way he was so often into it when he spoke philosophical, deep, not the way he was into it when he rapped and he meant every word he belted with every inch of his Comptonian soul… no, Dre did not genuinely seem to be feeling damn fucking dope.

"Whaddup _really_ though," Em tried again, because he was too baked to come up with anything better. Sure, he wrote all his best lyrics when he was high, that was when he thought all his profound thoughts — but right now, all he could think was how absolutely unhelpful he was.

"Long day," Dre simply repeated, wrapping an arm around Em and pulling him into his side. Em lazily leaned against him, breathing in the familiar scent of dead skin and sweat and marijuana.

"You know I's here for you," Em murmured softly. "Always, Dre. I owe it to you and I be happy to give it. You been through too much shit, dawg. You done too much, for me, for everybody, you ain't got nothing you deserve… Dre, you a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure…"

"No. Shh," Dre wrapped his other arm around Em, and Em silenced. Yeah, maybe shushing had been the right course of action in that moment. Eminem cursed himself internally. He was a famous lyricist, one of the greatest of gangsta rap's modern age, definitely the best-known white rapper of all time, supposedly a fountain of creativity… and here he was quoting a tumblr meme??!!! "Shh," Dre repeated, starting to rock Em gently in his arms. "Don't you worry bout me, Slim. Don't worry bout me."

"We gonn' slice some throats in the morning?" Em asked faintly, a vague hope in his heart that that would cheer Dre up.

"You got any hits in mind, of course I got your back," Dre stroked Em's hair again, and it felt comforting. "We a team."

"Fucking truth, man." Em _didn't_ have any hits in mind, but he was pretty sure Dre knew that, since Em was being so flippant. They were far from pacifists (they were gangsta as fuck in the souls), but the guys and all of them, Snoop, Cube, Wiz, Jay, Kanye, Wayne, Jeezy, everybody, they didn't ice nearly as many people as they acted like they did. It was just the way it was with a bunch of males. Nicki was like that to a slightly lesser degree. It was all cool.

There was silence for a while as they snuggled together, and Em wondered if Dre was really okay.

Then Dre pulled Em to his side again. "I love you bruh," he whispered in his deep roomy voice, "I got your back and I know you got mine. I'm just glad you're with me, Slim. My little crackerjack."

"Always," Em replied softly, pressing his lips against Dre's shoulder, "always." _Always._. And he relaxed. It didn't matter so much what was bothering Dre anymore. Not to be mistaken — Em cared a lot for Dre, he really wanted ( _needed_ ) him to be okay. But now Em knew fo shizzle that Dre knew that Em was there for him and he could tell him anything when he was ready. "Always," Em repeated again, just to be sure it was clear.

"Always," Dre replied, and with those words on his lips, it was not long before they both had fallen asleep.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> *cue The Fault In Our Stars soundtrack*


End file.
